AZ of Hogwarts Relationships
by urghwhatwhy
Summary: As the title says, an A-Z guide of relationships. This may be friendships, romantic relationships and family relationships. Each letter must start with a characters name. For example, first chapter,  A , is Albus Potter. Disclaim!
1. Albus and Scorpius

It was the bullying that convinced him to do it. The constant abuse that little Scorpius suffered at the hands of what seemed like the entire school, sans Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw students preferred to quietly ignore his presence whilst others were much more _vocal_ of their hate for everything his family was and everything they stood for. But Albus couldn't stop watching Scorpius with some kind of morbid fascination. Never had the blonde boy reacted in the slightest to whatever the other kids threw his way. And it simply amazed Albus. He was pretty sure that if he was in Scorpius' shoes, he would have broken down crying weeks ago. Albus would have been terrified to leave his dormitory and he would have shied away from everyone. Not Scorpius though. He walked around with his head held high and a certain grace that screamed aristocracy. Albus admired him for it. He respected him but at the same time, he _pitied_ him. Albus had heard many stories about the Great War and many scary stories about one particular family. No wonder people treated him how they did. Other first years shrank away from his gaze, terrified of what they believed him to be capable of. The older students, armed with WWW products, preferred to "show him who's boss", per say. But not Albus. Albus just sat, half way across the Great Hall. And all that separated them were two tables, a handful of students and centuries of prejudices. Now Albus could walk between the tables. Albus could weave around the students. But how could he escape the prejudices? The Malfoy's were evil. Always have been. Always were. Always will be. The entire wizarding world knew that. So Albus sat back, and let everything happen. He allowed people to abuse him for 7 months. But he was going to do something about it. Because how could someone so polite and considerate be so fundamentally bad? They couldn't. Albus had made a decision, and Scorpius didn't deserve to be treated like some social pariah. Albus was going to change it.

So Albus stood from the Gryffindor table. He walked between the two tables, weaving past the students and crashing through centuries of prejudices. When he reached Scorpius, Albus just stood, suddenly unsure, and as the young boy turned to see him, weariness written into his expression, Albus knew that it was too late to turn back. So the two stared at each other for a few moments before Albus finally remembered what he came over to do. And with everyone's eyes on the pair, history was written.

Albus sat down in one of the many empty spaces next to Malfoy and began filling his plate with the food that was piled in the centre of the table. No words were said and as Albus glanced surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye, he saw the slight smile on Scorpius' face, and was not surprised to note the matching smile on his face. Because through such small actions, Albus Potter realized that he had made someone slightly happier.

What both boys didn't know however, was that they would become each other's best friend. They would remain best friends forever. And on Thursday March 16th, two brothers had sat together, and changed each other's life.

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><p><strong>Review to tell me what you think and I might consider carrying this series on.<strong>

**Thanks for reading,**

**I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Obsessed**

**x**


	2. Blaise and Astoria

It started with a look. They were on opposite sides of the room, but when they both glanced over, their eyes locked. It wasn't **_love_**, it was attraction.

Next there was a touch. Her knuckles. His lips. It was soft and innocent, things the two people were definitely not. It wasn't **_love_**, it was acquaintanceship.

Then they spoke. A long conversation about everything and nothing. Both were drunk and didn't really remember much the next day. It wasn't **_love_, **it was understanding.

Surprisingly, or not as the case may be, the next time the two saw each other, they were drunk again. This time, there was more than a conversation, there was a touch. Multiple touches. A grope. Penetration. It wasn't **_love_**, it was lust.

There were many repeat performances. Each one different from the last. Soft and sensual, angry and aggressive. They held each other. It wasn't _**love**_, it was comfort.

And on 16th May, there was a dress. White, shimmery, beautiful. A girl. A ring. A contract. He watched as she walked down the aisle. Broken, yet complete. Together forever. Until death us do part. It wasn't _**love**_, it was security.

Next there was a baby. Soft and round. Half him. Half her. His eyes. Her hair. The two stood together. The baby in her arms, he stood behind her. It wasn't _**love**_, it was support.

Finally, many years later. There was an illness. She lay quiet, still and pale. There wasn't long left. And as she whispered her last words and her eyes fluttered shut, he placed a chaste kiss on her lips. It wasn't _**love**_. Neither of them were capable of that. But it was care. Fondness. Affection.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed it now I corrected the mistakes.<strong>

**Review for another chapter.**

**Many thanks,**

**Obsessed**

**x**


	3. Colin and George

It was October. And due to the rolling hills and mountains on and around the grounds of Hogwarts, that meant storms. Not quick downpours of rain, but huge cracks of thunder and the metallic screeching of electricity scorching the ground before disappearing again in the blink of an eye. Most children liked watching the quick flashes of light from behind a window. But not Colin. Colin often spent stormy nights curled in a ball under his duvet, silent tears streaking his young face as his small shoulder shook.

But that had been before he came to Hogwarts. When the storm wasn't as loud. Or as powerful. Or as _dangerous_. When his parents were asleep in the next room and he could hear his father's snoring. But here? Colin was alone. He had been at school for a month yet still didn't have any real friends. Not one person knew about his... phobia. So when everyone in his dormitory was asleep, and Colin's throat was burning with the pressure of not crying out in terror, Colin crept down the stairs into the Gryffindor common room to wait for the skies to calm.

Just as his fatigued mind began to blur into the realm of sleep, another violent crack filled the silence. Unprepared for the latest tremors of thunder and lightning, Colin shrieked loudly as he curled even tighter in on himself, desiring nothing more than to just blend into the fabric of the couch.

So focused on the tempest outside, he failed to notice the light thuds of someone making their way downstairs. Colin let out another screech as a soft light filled the common room. Colin's head snapped towards the light and the wand from which it was emitted. Stood at the bottom of the stairs, clad in only a pair of pyjama trousers, stood one of the Weasley twins. His red hair was twisted in all directions and he looked very weary from sleep. His eyebrows were furrowed as he regarded the small Creevey child. As if a light bulb had switched on inside his head, the Weasley twin's eyes widened in recognition.

"Colin? Is that you?" The Weasley twin called out into the semi-darkness. Colin didn't answer, for in the next second, another crash of lightning sent him jumping and yelling out. Mortified that someone else had seen his moment of weakness, Colin pulled his knees up to his chest, all the while silently berating himself. _Pull yourself together,_ he thought angrily. _You're a Gryffindor and it's time you started acting like one._

A quiet voice broke into his thoughts. "How long have you been down here, Colin?" The older boy questioned. Colin looked up at him wearily, before shrugging and letting his head drop to his knees. Any second now, the Weasley twin would begin to laugh. He'd begin making jokes and mocking him. Colin could hardly blame him. A Gryffindor, a _brave_ lion, scared of the thunder and the dark and the rain? _How pathetic_, Colin thought.

Once again the older boy called his name. Steeling himself, Colin looked up into his eyes. The red head made nodded slightly towards the staircases. When Colin made no effort to move, Weasley simply smirked before grabbing his arms and hauling him into a standing position. When Colin's exhaustion made him sway slightly, strong arms wound themselves behind the back of Colin's knees and below his shoulders. Colin was lifted into the air as if he weighed no more than a bag of sugar. As drowsiness threatened to overcome him, Colin allowed his head to loll against the teenager's chest.

Had the boy been able to summon the energy, he would have briefly wondered where they were going as Weasley passed the door to his dorm room and showed no signs of stopping. Eventually though, Weasley seemed to have found the correct room and, jiggling Colin only slightly, managed to open the door and shut it quietly behind him. Soft snores could be heard coming from most of the beds. Except for one, which was empty. The Weasley twin gently placed the boy down on to the mattress, covering his shivering form with the blanket and brushing his baby fine hair with his calloused hands.

"Thank you…" Colin mumbled, trailing off as he realised he did not know who was being so nice to him. Was it Percy? George? Collin could never remember which Weasley boy was which.

"George." The teenager supplied as he moved around to the other side of the room and lowered himself carefully onto the mattress. George fidgeted for a few moments before he found himself a comfortable position. He was laying on one side, facing Colin who was lying on his back. George watched, sleep laden, as Colin tensed when another rumble of thunder coursed through the sky.

Throwing an arm across the little kid's stomach, George allowed his eyes to close. "Go to sleep, Colin."

Slowly, Colin fell into a peaceful slumber, lulled by the steady breaths of air onto the top of his head.

From that night onwards, until the Weasley twins were expelled, George would awake whenever there was a storm. He would quietly make his way down the stairs, before bundling a scared and sleepy Colin into his arms and making his way back up to bed.

Gradually, Colin began to make friends, although none ever found out about his fear of storms. Colin was always already up and about before any of the boys in his dormitory even noticed he hadn't slept there.

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><p><strong>Review?<strong>


	4. Dennis and Gabrielle

**Hi, everyone.**

**Been a while.**

**Sorry.**

**Enjoy**

**x**

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><p>It was in that one moment that Dennis realized just how he felt. How <em>strongly<em> he felt. Because when Harry Potter told him about the accident, he felt that his world had just been knocked off course. Only once before had Dennis felt so lost. So scared. So _alone_. He didn't understand what had happened. "A curse gone wrong," was what Harry had said. But Dennis heard nothing. He felt sick and was struggling to stand, let alone listen to what the 'Boy- Who- _Fucking_- Lived,' said. And Dennis was just so angry. Angry because someone was playing the mother of all jokes on him. And he felt sick to his stomach. He focused on his breathing, barely aware of someone trying to talk to him before he felt the squeezing sensation of Apparition.

When the world had stopped spinning, Dennis felt the bile rising in his throat before he promptly grabbed hold of the nearest wall and emptied the contents of his stomach. The bricks were beginning to dig into his fingers but Dennis didn't release the wall from his death- grip. The wall was keeping him grounded. The only thing alive when the world had died. Dennis couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything. Hell, he couldn't even smell anything. But he felt the wall. Hard and cold and comforting. Dennis wanted to stay there forever, because everything but the wall was unknown. Yet when a hand was placed on his shoulder, attempting to soothe him, Dennis straightened, anxious to be away from everyone and everything but her.

Reminded of how he ended up in this state, Dennis' head snapped up. He needed to find her. To hold her. To _love_ her. Taking in his surroundings, Dennis' deduced that they were stood outside Saint Mungo's. Dennis took off and sprinted towards the entrance and towards his best friend.

A few minutes later, Dennis arrived panting and sweaty in the room he had been directed to. His suit stuck to him and he could almost feel the salty droplets fall down his neck. But Dennis payed no mind. Because she was there. Pale and still and beautiful. He lurched towards the bed and grabbed her cool hand. Dennis needed to wake her up. Needed to know that she hadn't left him. Needed to know that she was _alive_. But he couldn't bring himself to do so. The purple of the skin around her eyes made him pause. Had she looked like that when he had dropped by her office to give her her breakfast? Surely she must have. Dennis questioned how he didn't notice. It was painfully obvious as she lied there. White walls, white floors, white ceiling, white bed sheets, white face, _purple_ eyes. Dennis settled himself into the chair by her bed. He was here now. And he wasn't leaving. How could he? She meant _everything_ to him. She was his air. His light. His _daily fix_. He wanted her. He was _in love_ with her. Dennis sighed.

"I love you, Gabrielle Delacour," he whispered. The room stayed silent and still as Dennis closed his eyes.

Gabrielle never found out what he had said that day.

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><p><strong>Review?<strong>


	5. Eloise and Myrtle

Because **no one** liked Eloise.

And **no one** like Myrtle.

Because both were _r i d i c u l e d._

UglyUglyUglyUglyUgly, called the students.

...Annoying, called the ghosts.

Because maybe they just weren't _meant to_ have 3friends3.

So they became each other's _friend?_

_Confidant?_

**Companion.**

But Eloise knew they were different.

Because Myrtle was _**bitter.**_

Bitter because she was killed.

M u r d e r e d long before her time.

Bitter that everyone left **-** her.

Grew old and p  
>a<br>s  
>s<br>e  
>d away themselves.<p>

!Bitter! that she's alone.

**Avoid**ed by the **mass**es.

Bitter that she is STUCK.

Forever **d** o **o** m **e** d to an **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...** e.t.e.r.n.i.t.y... in a _bathroom_.

Because, _really?_ Where _else_ is she going to go?

But Eloise hadn't been m u r d e r e d.

No one had left her. She hadn't really _**had**_ anyone to begin with.

She was **avoid**ed. But because of her looks. Her hair. Her skin. Her weight.

And Eloise isn't _stuck_ here. Not really.

One day, she's going to **leave**_leave_leave this place.

Pack up her bags and graduate from this godforsaken school.

And as much as Eloise feels **bad** for Myrtle,

She can't help but _**HATE**_ her.

Because Myrtle just doesn't understand.

Myrtle has an _AtTiTuDe_ problem.

Eloise has a **vanity** problem.

Myrtle can c-c-change.

Eloise **c-c-can't.**

She's always going to be alone.

Because let's _face_ :/ it.

Who wants to know a _girl_ who's only claim to _***!FAME!***_ is

her **weight,**

her _acne_ and

exactly why her nose is slightly off- centre

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><p><strong>Review?<strong>

**Please?**

**Obsessed**

**x**


	6. Frank and Alice

Okay, he might have had a crush on her. But only a _little_ crush. Nothing to owl home about. He merely respected her as an individual and valued her as a friend. _Yes_, Frank thought to himself. _That's it exactly_. His feelings were nothing more than affectionate. And so I should be fond of her, his consciousness told him.

Alice was so _compassionate_. She is ever mindful of other people's thoughts and emotions and knows how to comfort everyone, from scared First years to a tearful Slytherin who's under just a little bit too much pressure. She offers comfort and advice without being overbearing. Friend of foe, Alice is always willing to help others out, even if she has to work twice as hard because of it. She offers an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on and an infallible logic that is not stereotypically cold as it sounds. What really makes Alice a good friend is the fact that she cares about others.

Alice is _respectful_ of others. She is willing to tease others in good jest, but she realises when there is a line that is not, under any circumstances, to be crossed. She holds most people in high esteem as long as they prove that they are worth her admiration. She isn't ashamed to give compliments to those she considers better than her and she has even been known to praise a Slytherin's work on occasion. She respects hard work. She treats everyone as her equals yet is not afraid to stand up for herself and others should the need arise. What makes Alice a good friend is the fact that she recognises something good in everything.

Alice is one of the _smarter_ Gryffindors. She takes to charms like an owl to the sky. She recognises her talents and plays to her strengths, but isn't pompous. She is quite well- liked among the first years due to her eagerness to help with schoolwork and homework. She does not nag, however, and chooses to softly encourage them to try their best, even if they don't like the subject teacher. She is able to hold her own in a debate and is often the voice of reason in many Gryffindor spats. People listen to her because she has a deeper understanding of the more philosophical topics than teenagers her age do. What really makes Alice a good friend is the fact that she is willing to share her knowledge with others, indifferent to age, race and gender.

Alice is quietly _confident_. She has suffered from more than her fair share of insults and bullying, yet she knows exactly who she is. She is self- assured and knows what she is good at. She doesn't boast to others and seems ignorant of the fact that people look up to her. Other people's negative opinions of her don't seem to faze her and she continues with her head held high. That being said, she accepts any compliments with a grace and elegance that is becoming more unusual in the modern world. What really makes Alice a good friend is that fact that she isn't desperate for attention and approval from those that she meets.

Alice is adorably _pretty_. She has a natural beauty that is rare and unique and most girls are insanely jealous of her. She doesn't flaunt herself or compete with another for a boy's affections. What adds to her beauty is her innocence. She is so wholeheartedly good on the inside that it is reflected in her features. Her soft eyes radiate warmth and her very posture and behaviours invite people over to her. She isn't a hostile person and it is clear in her tone and mannerisms that she isn't built for meanness and maliciousness and manipulation. And whilst it is unlikely that she recognises how pretty she is, she doesn't intend to bring others down with her. What really makes Alice a good friend is the fact that she's beautiful on the inside.

Frank shook himself from his daze. Nothing more than a little, harmless _crush_. Frank respected Alice as an individual and valued her as a friend. His feelings were nothing more than affectionate.

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><p><strong>Sorry it took so long, I had to find other FrankAlice stories due to lack of inspiration.**

**When inspiration finally hit, it was in the wrong viewpoint, (check out _A Sense of War_ to see my first attempt) and I had to wait for more inspiration.**

**Anyway, I was listening to Reece Mastin and this happened:)**

**Thanks to _Boff93_ and KoOlKaTmEoW13 for being the only two to review this story.**

**Wow, that makes me feel unloved.**


	7. Ginny and Neville

"Hey, Neville…"

"Yes, Ginny?"

"You just lost 'The Game'."

"Not this again! It's madness. It doesn't make any sense whatsoever!"

"You're just jealous because you lost. I can't help it that you're rubbish at 'The Game."

"I am not rubbish!"

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Can we just get back to the charm?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Whether or not you admit to everyone, out loud, that you lost 'The Game'."

"I haven't lost anything. And anyway, haven't you lost 'The Game' yet?"

"No. I haven't."

"How have you not? You haven't shut up about it since you found out about it!"

"Ahhh, but I don't break the rule."

"Rule?"

"The only rule to 'The Game': You cannot think about 'The Game'."

"Ridiculous rule."

"Is not."

"Is too.

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"It is too. Unless you were really skilled at Legilimency, you wouldn't know whether or not your opponent was even lying about thinking about 'The Game'."

"See, Neville? There's your problem. You have trust issues."

"I do not!"

"Sure you do."

"Don't."

"Do."

"Don't."

"Do."

"Just because I know that everybody lies does not mean that I have trust issues! I'll have you know that I trust a lot of people, thank you very much."

"It does."

"Ginny!"

"All right, all right. Merlin's pants you're a bit sensitive, aren't you?"

"Shut up, Ginny."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Please?"

"Absolutely not."

"And why not?"

"Because this is fun!"

"It really isn't."

"It is."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're really annoying?"

"Everyday of my life, kiddo."

"Don't call me 'kiddo'."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm older than you. That's why."

"Only by 15 months."

"Ahh, young warrior. But 15 months is 15 months. And as I am 15 months older than you, t'is I that am able to call you 'kiddo'."

"Don't you dare, Neville Longbottom!"

"Why not, kiddo?"

"Because if you ever call me kiddo again, I will hex off your balls and feed them to you. That's why."

"Sure thing, kiddo."

"Neville."

"Whatever you like, kiddo."

"Neville…"

"Anytime, kiddo."

"Neville!"

"What's up, kiddo?"

"NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!"

"Ahhh, look at the time, kiddo. See you at the next DA meeting, kiddo? Same time and place, kiddo?"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"BYE, KIDDO!"

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><p><strong>Read and review?<strong>


	8. Harry and Hermione

**Please don't kill me for this!**

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><p>Their relationship had become one of need. Born of friendship, bred of desperation. Out in the forest, isolated from everyone they ever knew, all they had was each other. Harry often wondered if that was enough. How on Earth could they survive out in the wild? Lost, alone and scared? But at this point, both would take whatever they could get.<p>

Harry wanted so badly to disappear into the world. Escape into a world of safety and security. A world of roses and rainbows where he wasn't a saviour. A world of anonymity. Harry knew he wouldn't though, even if the opportunity did arise. He couldn't leave Hermione like that. Like Ron had. Hermione had no one left in the world. Her parents were not aware of her existence and the Weasleys may care for her, but they had never been as close as Harry was to the family.

She was truly alone in the world, but she carried on fighting. Harry wondered if she fought for him. But knowing Hermione, Harry figured she would fight just for the sake of fighting. She always did love a good argument and a quick duel would do wonders for her temper. Harry smirked at his musings before his smile grew sad again.

Hermione had always been the constant in Harry's life. Well, since he was eleven. She had never wavered in her support and belief in him. Ron was always blowing hot and cold, but not Hermione. She valued him as more than a hero. She respected him enough to tell him when he was being a prat. Not many people would do that. Harry had never noticed how much he came to depend on the small witch. She was everything Harry needed to keep himself calm and sane in a world of chaos and despair. She was his light; something to cling onto when the world became too dark.

Yet, it was not until Hermione had broken down in tears that Harry realised how much she needed him too. Her world had been reduced to nothing and he was her everything. Harry was Hermione's pillar of faith and hope. On some level, Hermione understood that no one was going to come and rescue her and sweep her off of her feet. And that's where Harry came in. Hermione needed to know that she was doing something important. Harry reminded her that everything she did was to make the world a better place. Harry was the proof that there was still some good left to be found in the world. And she needed her proof. Because otherwise, what was the point?

Yes, Harry thought to himself. Their relationship had evolved so much of the years. Because when they had first became friends, both were unsure of what 'saving the Wizarding World' entailed. And now… They were stranded in the middle of obscurity, hidden from everyone by wards and charms and invisibility. And if they both needed to hold each other close during the long, cruel nights, then so be it. Because the other was all they could ever desire. Confirmation of one tiny fact that meant so much: You are not alone.

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><p><strong>I'm sorry I killed the beauty of their friendship!<strong>

**And for anyone who cares,**

**I'm not a Harmony shipper.**

**I just hate Ron.**

**With a fat, ginger, lanky passion.**

**Anyway, review?**

**P.S. Has anyone got an OC character who's name begins with I?**

**I need a character for the next chapter, but I don't know anything about Igor Karkaroff.**

**I would add an AN to say it's not my character and to tell readers to check out the author's stories:)**

**W/b if you want to help me!**


	9. Isabel and The Portraits

**My very own OC who fought her way out of my convoluted mind.**

**What does convoluted mean?**

**Hmmm. I will review a story of the writer who can tell me.**

**I can review for review.**

**Sound fair?**

**Get it?**

**Got it?**

**Good.**

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><p>Isabel turned the corner and skidded to a halt. A portrait of an older woman sneered down at her as Isabel watched on, fascinated.<p>

The older woman had long dark hair, which was twisted up into a sophisticated up- do at the side of her head and as a result, razor sharp cheekbones were highlighted. Vivid green eyes glared coldly at Isabel as plump lips curled up into a sneer. Isabel smiled serenely back at her.

"Well, child?" The portrait began to speak in an irate tone. "Did your mother not teach you that you should not stare at others? It is most unbecoming of a young lady." The woman's tone matched her appearance exactly; it was formal and cultured.

Isabel smirked at the woman. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that sneering is rude?" The portrait's eyes glittered in anger. "Thought not," Isabel continued before the woman had a chance to recover.

"Did your mother not teach you to respect your elders?" The portrait challenged Isabel with a triumphant look.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's rude to mention people's age in public?" Once again, Isabel didn't give the portrait a chance to respond before speaking again. "Thought not."

"Good heavens, child! Did your mother not teach you that it is not acceptable to argue with those that are socially better than you?"

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's rude to boast? …Thought not."

The woman in the portrait sighed in defeat, prompting a grin out of Isabel. "Is there a reason you're here, Isabel?"

Isabel's eyes scrunched up as she thought before they widened in remembrance. "Thomas the Terrible has been looking for you again. Something about not being able to say no this time…" Isabel trailed off ominously as the woman in the portrait huffed in frustration before standing.

"Thank you, Isabel." Isabel smiled back at the woman who was quickly walking in the opposite direction of Thomas the Terrible's portrait.

"It's fine," Isabel called out to the departing woman. "Bye Salette!" Salette offered a quick wave over her shoulder as she began to jog away down the corridor.

Isabel smirked. She really did love all of the portraits that hung in the corridors of Hogwarts, but Salette was by far her favourite. Each portrait offered a fountain of knowledge on a million different subjects, yet Salette offered mental stimulation. While Isabel spoke with the other portraits, she _argued_ with Salette.

Walking off, Isabel sighed. She really did wish that she and Salette could be friends forever. _Maybe I should have a portrait commissioned when I die_, Isabel mused to herself. _If I ask Dumbledore, he might even allow my portrait to be hung in the castle_.

Hurrying off towards her Fifth year Divination class, Isabel imagined just how much fun she and Salette could have when she died. Groaning when she totted up just how long it could be until she died, Isabel sighed once again. _Life could be so restricting_, she thought to herself miserably.

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><p><strong>I told you it was weird.<strong>

**x**


	10. James and Lily

**I know what you're thinking.**

**Another one? So soon?**

**The answer? Yes.**

**I like this one.**

**Anyway, if you want to review for review, just tell me!**

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><p>Lily Evans is the most annoyingly frustrating person that I have <em>ever<em> had the good fortune of meeting. Everything she does irks me in the most excruciating way possible and I hate her for it. She must be pure _evil_, because there's no other explanation. Either that, or she's not as smart as she makes out she is. Yes! That's it! The Gryffindor muggle- born princess is actually very dim. And it is my job to spread the word on. To prove it, I shall make a list, detailing the many ways in which she is completely and utterly dim- witted:

**1.** Lily Evans does not think that I am funny. I am one _forth_, (occasionally one third when Sirius is stropping with Peter), of the most _notorious_ group of prank masters to _ever_ grace the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. It is a well- known fact that the Marauders are funny. It's an established truth. It's written in all the latest non- fiction textbooks. The _whole_ school, (minus Slytherin), finds us hilarious. Even McGonagall, (although she denies it). This has led me to my first point. If everyone _but_ Lily finds us funny, then she must not understand the joke. _Poor girl_! To miss out on all the greatest comedic fun because you can't understand the punch line! That's got to be at least a _little_ bit horrible.

**2.** Another reason Lily Evans must be stupid is because she's come to the, (obviously incorrect), conclusion that I am not a _good guy_. Since the time of the Founders, all future dark witches/ wizards and shady characters end up in Slytherin. It practically says so in _Hogwarts: A History_. For someone to believe that a _Gryffindor_; a brave, loyal, noble lion; is a bad person is absolutely _preposterous_! There is a reason that Gryffindor's crest is a lion and Slytherin's is a snake. _Slytherins_ are bad people. Lily Evans calls me a bully, yet if this was true, surely I'd have been sorted into Slytherin. But I _wasn't_. The Sorting Hat doesn't believe I'm a bad person and the Sorting Hat knows all. But surely, even Lily Evans could follow that simple train of logical thought? Apparently not.

**3.** My third point in my list is living proof of just how mentally unstable our dear Lily-flower is. She thinks _I'm_ stupid! _Me_! I know, right. How _ironic_. It is a well- known fact that I'm _fourth_ in our year in potions. Fourth after Snivellous, Padfoot and herself. In fact, I'm in the top ten in _all_ of my classes. I'm even ahead of _her_ in Transfiguration and she spends ALL of her spare time studying. I don't need to study to get by, yet imagine how often I'd best her in classes if I did. Me not studying is actually a blessing in disguise for her. If I studied, she'd drop even _further_ in classes! Then where would she be? Honestly, if the girl is oblivious to my academic successes, then surely she must not be right in the head. How many other 5th years does she know with an extensive vocabulary like mine? None. _Exactly_.

**4.** Point #4 directly ties in with point #2. Lily Evans is one of the dafter witches to grace Britain because she's friends with _Snape_. Snivellous Snape is a _Slytherin_ in our year and he's a foul git if _ever_ there was one. He's totally into the pureblood supremacy rubbish and is trouble. Yet Lily doesn't listen. She _refuses_ to see sense! Slytherins are dirty, nasty creatures that are _not_ to be trusted. _Everyone_ knows that. Especially in times like these! It's a dangerous world and if Lily continues to hang around with the wrong sorts, then she'll end up at the wrong end of someone else's wand. You don't need to have a NEWT in Divination to figure that one out. What flummoxes me is the she detests me; abhors me with a passion, yet she'd jump at the chance to _defend_ greasy Snivellous from everyone. In _what_ way is Snivellous better than me? _He's_ not part of a hilarious prank group. _He's_ not a good guy. _He's_ stupid. Well, not _academically_. But he's _still_ stupid! To be honest, I have _no idea_ why Evans and Snape are so close. They've practically been _going out_ since they got here. It's _disgusting_. What has Snape got that I haven't? Greasy hair, _that's_ what. Lily Evans _must_ be stupid to _choose_ to spend time with Snivellous.

After looking back at all the points, I have come to my final conclusion. Lily Evans, _beautiful Lily Evans_ is delusional. She's barmy. She's nitwitted. She's a _dopey, anserine, thickheaded dunce!_

And I love her.

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><p><strong>Review for review?<strong>

**Or just review?**

**x**


	11. Katie and Oliver

**It took a while, but this little plot bunny has been nibbling at my mind for weeks and it's been driving me crazy!**

**Enjoy :)**

**x**

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><p>Katie looked away from the chaos, her desire to be involved almost bringing her to tears. Due to a broom accident the day before, Madam Pomfrey had disallowed her participation in the GryffindorSlytherin inter-house Quidditch match.

Katie was feeling extra bitter, as it had been Goyle, one of the Slytherin beaters, who had caused her accident. Whilst the Slytherin team had been practicing, Goyle had "_accidentally_" missed the bludger. Katie had not had enough time to move before the bludger caught her around the side of her face.

Today was the perfect opportunity for a little revenge, yet Katie was stuck in the Gryffindor stands with a pounding headache and a large purple bruise covering her cheek, surrounding her eye socket and disappearing beneath her hair. Katie felt like curling up into a ball and crying. Slytherin were winning and _thrashing_ Gryffindor in the process. And she knew where everything was going wrong.

Slytherin had a very good attack. The two beaters were on the offensive and used only the simplest moves to fool Gryffindor into the defensive. The three chasers then had over half of the pitch to work a quick game play! However, as they had a new chaser this year, they weren't really venturing out there with the moves. If a Gryffindor chaser _did_ get a lock on the quaffle, the Slytherins pulled a quick 'Woollongong Shimmy' to shake them off.

How the Gryffindor team had not noticed this, Katie didn't know and as the Slytherin's scored another goal, driving the score to 130-40, she struggled to control her frustration. _Honestly_, she thought to herself, _how could anyone be so dim_? As the Slytherin cheers and the Gryffindor groans gradually quietened down, Katie saw her chance.

"Wood!" Katie's voice carried across the pitch, much to her great relief. After quickly posting a chaser on goal- duty, Oliver flew over to her, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the game.

Oliver stopped and hovered a few metres above an incredibly irate Katie, who glared coldly at him. "What the _hell_ do you think you're playing at?" She screeched at him. "Slytherin chasers are using the same _shoddy_ moves, sticking to the right of the pitch and you _still_ can't beat them! You _need_ to sort out your game play. Get Alicia and Angela to pull a Porskoff Ploy on their arses and use the _right side_ of the field, Smith's got a dodgy broom and it veers to the _left_. Also, tell Potter to pull his scarred head _out_ of his arse, stop staring at Chang and find the _bloody_ snitch!"

Katie was slightly out of breath after her tirade, yet Oliver seemed to have got bored, for he flew off back towards the goal without a second glance her way. Sitting back down in her seat, Katie began to sulk as nearby Gryffindors laughed at her impassioned speech.

Unable to bare the embarrassment that a loss to Slytherin would bring, Katie began to steadfastly count the number of students in attendance of the match; anything to avoid the mortification of being a part of the losing team.

However, not 10 minutes later, a shout caught her attention. Scanning the pitch, Katie deemed that in the last few minutes, Gryffindor had scored _three_ goals, (which Katie knew about, _despite_ her ignoring the game, due to Lee's announcements), pushing their score up to 70. Katie also noticed that Potter had made sudden dive towards the grass below, curving up at the last second to skim along the ground.

Katie caught a quick glimpse of gold before it disappeared into the bedlam of a Quidditch game. Instead, Katie's eyes followed Harry; ducking and diving as he did before shooting upwards as he passed in front of her. Clinging onto the edge of her seat, Katie held her breath.

This was it. The difference between winning and losing and by Merlin, if Gryffindor didn't win, she would _personally_ see to Potter's castration. Too much was riding on this.

Harry pulled his broom up, his hand outstretched in front of him. Then, he stopped and for a second, Katie didn't dare to breathe. It wasn't until she saw his smile that she realised what had happened. Because a grin _that_ big wasn't made famous by _losers_. Lee's voice filtered vaguely through her head as her jaw dropped open in surprise.

They had made it. They had won the Quidditch cup. They were _champions_! Katie screamed along with the Gryffindors, her Cheshire grin disturbing her tender skin. Oliver swooped down again to hover directly in front of her and Katie smirked. Judging by the begrudging look on his face, he had followed her advice. _Ha_, her mind laughed. _Not so great now, are you?_

But Katie could see the characteristic flush to his cheeks and the bright glow to his eyes that winning a Quidditch match brought to the young man. Katie didn't have long to look though, for in one clean swoop, he bent down and captured her lips in a kiss.

As her eyes fluttered closed on instinct, the wolf whistles and jeers faded into the background and her blood thudded through her ears. He smelt divine. A mixture of wood and fresh air, which captured her senses and tugged on her heart. Oliver caught her bottom lip between his teeth and pulled slightly. "My hero," he whispered into her mouth.

A second before her brain could catch up with the sequence of events and she responded, he pulled away to the catcalls of Lee Jordan, (whom was being told off by a disapproving McGonagall).

Oliver glanced at her for a second, pressed a gentle kiss to the bruise on her cheek before taking back off into the air to join in with the customary victory ride around the pitch. As he flew away, Katie was quickly bombarded with questions from eager girls. But she could do nothing but stare dumbly at his retreating form as she bit her lip, the corners of her mouth pulling up slightly as their eyes met.

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><p><strong>Makes my heart go 'Awwwwww' everytime.<strong>

**Review?**

**Cheers, mate! **

**x**


	12. Luna and Dean

**My favourite pairing,**

**Not my favourite piece of work.**

**C'est la vie.**

**x**

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><p>Luna had never been one to dream of what could have been. She wasn't one to wish on a star to undo her mistakes and she certainly wasn't about to begin now. But there was one little phrase that had wormed itself into her mind and weaved throughout her thoughts.<p>

'_What if…_'

Time at the Malfoy Manor had passed slowly and as the days merged into one, Luna and Dean had grown incredibly close. But now, living at Shell Cottage, Luna thought about just how close the two had become.

Dean understood Luna. He understood every thought. Every dream. Every niggling worry. The overbearing silence of the Malfoy Manor had meant that the two had spoke about everything. School. Quidditch. Even Crumple-Horned Snorkacks had invaded conversation once or twice.

So Dean knew when to spark up a whispered discussion with her. When the world became too quiet, Luna began to think. To worry. To remember. And Dean knew exactly what that meant for her.

Dean knew when to coax her back inside the cottage. Because, to be honest, she couldn't _really_ walk inside on her own. Not anymore when walls and doors and locks no longer kept her safe, but kept her trapped, when all she longed for is freedom.

And Dean knew when to crawl into her bed in the early hours of the morning when the rest of the house was sleeping. He knew when to wind his arms around her waist. He knew when to place a gentle kiss to her forehead to lull her back to sleep.

But when Dean fell asleep and his hands wandered slightly across her too- thin- to- be- healthy stomach, Luna couldn't help but think '_what if…_'

'_What if she and Dean did end up together as Ginny often predicted they would?_'

'_What if she and Dean grew up together and got married?_'

'_What if they had dark skinned babies with his bravery and her intelligence?_'

'_What if they were happy together?_'

But Luna wasn't a Gryffindor. She was a logical Ravenclaw. So she allowed herself to enjoy the butterfly sensations that Dean created, but she would _never_ again entertain fanciful thoughts of love and romance. Especially not in a darkened room with closed doors and silence. Not when the world was at war.

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><p><strong>Read and review?<strong>

**Maybe?**

***CoughHINTCough***

**;)**


	13. Molly and Arthur

**New one!**

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><p>Their love had withstood opposition. Molly's mother had always wanted her daughter to marry the son of a nice pureblood family. Granted, Arthur was a pureblood, but he was so weird. Such an outcast. What respectable pureblood tinkers with muggle objects, they whispered.<p>

Their love had withstood a war. They were both young when it had happened, barely out of Hogwarts. Everyone feared for the future when the world had seemed so dark. But they had married and Molly became pregnant.

Their love had withstood time. It had been a long time since Molly had first laid eyes on Arthur. She still fancied him as much as she did that day. She respected him now as she had when she first spoke to him. He gave her the same butterflies he had given her as a teenager.

Their love had withstood worry. When the news came that a monster had taken her only daughter, Molly had been inconsolable. Arthur had been there for her and she had pushed him away because she couldn't allow herself to be comforted when her daughter was alone.

Their love had withstood abandonment. That's what it was: abandonment. Percy had abandoned his family for his work ethic. Her child had not cared enough about their family to stand by them. Molly wondered exactly where she had wrong. She was a failure.

Their love had withstood battle. The whole family had been involved, fighting together for something bigger than they were. Molly had all her children back and all of her worry back. She tried to get her children to stick together. To care and protect one another. Anything for a little peace of mind, no matter how insignificant that reassurance was.

Their love had withstood loss. It was the loss of one of her sons that pushed the family apart. George withdrew, his pain too much to contemplate. Percy threw even more of himself into his work, his awkwardness proving to be a barrier. Ginny had been angry. Fred wouldn't have wanted them mourning forever more. Molly and Arthur held each other, unable to stop the destruction that cascaded through their family.

Yes, Molly and Arthur had always been in love. Their love had not wavered and had not waned. With each day that passed, they held each other tighter as their love grew until their hearts ached. Ached with fear and worry and betrayal and loss. But they managed, because they were meant to be together. Molly and Arthur were meant to be in love until the day they died.

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><p><strong>Was all I could come up with and there wasn't much inspiration on this site -_-<strong>

**Review? Even if it's for past chapters? Or to tell me to hurry up with the next one because this one hardly counted as a chapter?**


	14. Nymphadora and Charlie

**Looks poem-ish. **

**But maybe just writing with structure?**

**Who knows?**

**Sorry it's late.**

**I've been ill: headache and dizziness, in case you were wondering.**

**This is all I could write from my idea.**

**Maybe one day, when I'm feeling better, I'll re-write it properly.**

**Thanks for being patient!**

**x**

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><p>Charlie Weasley had honestly never seen anything like it.<p>

The most beautiful 6th year student, ever.

Wearing the strangest shoes he'd seen since... Whenever.

They were purple and pink and green and yellow.

And she was jigging across the school grounds.

Splashing in puddles and dancing in the rain.

Her clothes were plastered to her.

And she looked so innocent and childlike.

With her hair changing colours every few minutes.

Purple then pink then green then yellow.

Charlie Weasley was enthralled by the scene.

He could see that she was laughing.

Her head thrown back and her shoulders shaking

But he couldn't hear it.

He tried to turn his eyes away.

But he couldn't stop staring.

Because she looked so happy and relaxed.

She was his welcome relief from unbearable exams and exhausting heat.

His friends were laughing at him; he still could not turn away.

Instead he watches her. Analyses her. Admires her.

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><p><strong>Again, sorry for the lateness.<strong>

**I'll go sit myself in an empty corner now :/**


	15. Ollivander and Wands

**Took a while.**

**The definitions aren't mine.**

**But two in one day?**

**Lucky people:)**

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><p>A <strong>wand<strong>, (a stick or rod thought to have magic properties, held by a magician, fairy, or conjuror and used in casting spells or performing tricks.), is thought to be an "**extension of the wizard**" and are brought by a magical **child**, (a young human being below the age of full physical development or below the legal **age of majority**.), of eleven years.

Wands can be **light**, (of good nature), or **dark**, (of an evil or cruel disposition), and are **matched** with the child whose personality, (the combination of characteristics or qualities that form an individual's distinctive character.), or **soul**, (a person's moral or emotional nature or sense of identity.), fits the qualities of the wand.

Therefore, Ollivander knows which children are considered to be "**evil**", (profound **immorality, wickedness, and depravity**, esp. when regarded as a supernatural force.) are not to **blame**, (responsibility for a fault or wrong.).

Ollivander thinks it is unfair, (Unkind, inconsiderate, or **unreasonable**), to **punish**, (inflict a penalty or sanction on (someone) as **retribution** for an offense, esp. a transgression of a legal or moral code.) a **child** for their legal **guardian's**, (a defender, **protector**, or keeper), **wrongdoing**, (illegal, **immoral** or dishonest behavior.), of not **teaching**, (ideas or principles taught by an authority,) their child **right**, (that which is morally correct, just, or **honorable**.), from **wrong**, (act **unjustly** or dishonestly toward someone.).

Following this trail of **logic**, (a particular system or codification of the principles of proof and inference.) it can be **proved**, (demonstrate by evidence or argument someone or something to be.), that even a **cruel**, (having or showing a sadistic disregard for the pain or suffering of others.), **child** with the **worst**, (of the poorest quality or the lowest standard,), **morals**, (a person's standards of behavior or beliefs concerning what is and is not acceptable for them to do.), **deserves**, (do something or have or show qualities worthy of reward or punishment.), a wand.

**Agree**, (have the same opinion about something; concur.), or **disagree**, (have or express a different opinion.)?

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><p><strong>What do you lot think?<strong>

**If the wand picks a wizard, and a wand if "bad", should that wizard be allowed a wand?**

**Send me your ideas :)**

**Obsessed**

**x**


	16. Percy and Penelope

**Dear all of my fans,**

**I'm so sorry that I've been M.I.A lately, but my life has just been FUBAR, (that's Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition). I know that it may not seem like I've had much on my plate, but the following schedule was preceded by at least 6 weeks of sleep deprivation so try to be understanding. Over the past four weeks, I've had 8 GCSE exams, 3 college interviews, I've been working and I've also had the flu. I know that I probably could have managed to keep on top of everything, but I'm not used to having so much to do. As a result, I let things get away from me and I apologise. I am in the process of updating all of my stories and I am currently writing the next chapter to 'Midnight Strolls and Prefect Patrol' which is taking the most work. It had been so long since I wrote the last chapter that I forgot about how I'd portrayed the characters so I had to go back and reread what I'd written so far. I was then convinced that my entire writing style had changed so again, I had to go back and double check. Therefore, the entire writing process had lengthened.**

**Please forgive me for taking so long, I promise to have the next chapter on.**

**I'd like to finish by saying thank you for being so patient, it means the world to me!**

**All my continuing love,**

**Obsessed**

**x**

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><p><strong>The above was from three-ish weeks ago. Possibly. I've since lost all sense of times as I struggle to finish all of my coursework and cram for exams. I have a plan about MSPP, (Midnight Strolls and Prefect Patrols), if you're reading. Rest assured that I HAVE NOT given up. I promise.<strong>

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><p><strong>I need a character for the Quirrell chapter, (preferably not Voldemort).<strong>

**A Regulus/Sirius prompt?**

**A character/abstract idea that begins with the letter 'U'?**

**A character/abstract idea that begins with the letter 'Y'?**

**A character/abstract idea that begins with the letter 'Z'?**

**That's for one fic that I really _need_ to finish if only to motivate me to finish my others.**

**I also need some song prompts for a moment during the war. Hermione POV, (past examples here). People are asking for an update, Lord knows why. and I don't want to disappoint everybody. (In other words, I'm getting too many emails. I don't know how they got my email address. I'm scared.)**

**And I need an idea for a listfic that people have been begging me to update. Again, the link is here.**

**If you bothered to read all of this, I love you. Any answers will receive shoutouts in the next chapters;) x**

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><p>Percy loved the way that she plaited her hair. No matter what he was doing, his eyes would search her out the moment she walked down the stairs from the girls dormitory. He didn't know whether or not it was just a habit to do her hair as she walked to breakfast in the morning, or whether she'd felt self conscious and decided to re-plait her hair before walking into the Great Hall. Either way, Percy was so glad that she did.<p>

He was in fifth year when he first noticed it. It was early in the morning and he'd been trying to get a little extra revision into his day when she had burst his little bubble of peace by almost falling down the stairs. He'd glanced up in surprise and he'd never looked back. Nowadays, he'd strategically place himself around the common room in the morning, searching for the best place to watch her without anyone noticing.

Percy was interrupted from his musings by that familiar clambering of shoes on wood and glanced up just in time to see what he craved so much.

Penelope Clearwater waltzed down the last few steps, her fingers buried in her hair as they moved quickly, taming her mane with a few twists of her hand. But what Percy like best about the plaits was the way that they fell down past her shoulders and exposed her neck to him.

Percy could not explain his attraction to her neck, and would hate to try to. There was just something oh so appealing in the pale skin, contrasting so heavily against her dark hair that she almost looked... ethereal. Penelope's neck was long and dainty and Percy was in love.

He longed to stroke a lone finger down the back of her neck, forcing a shiver through her body as she looked up at him through hooded eyes. He desired nothing more than to bury his face into the space behind her ears and see whether or not she really smelt just as lovely as the air around her lead him to believe; spicy but fruity with a hint of wood. He needed to taste the saltiness of her skin, still slightly damp from exertion.

Percy would give the world to swirl his tongue over her pulse and feel her squirm beneath him.

But he didn't have the world to give.

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><p><strong>Surprised myself with the ending, there. <strong>

**Just sort of jumped out at me.**

**Sorry, again about... everything.**


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